Some Unholy War
by Silent Hunter
Summary: Post war, post "The One". Part of an idea I had. There's a tiny bit of attempted humor but mostly just Jake being post war Jake.


A/N: I don't own The Animorphs. The song belongs to Amy Winehouse. This is part of a larger idea that I got after hearing the song, so that's the reason for the title and the reason why I included the lyrics. Not sure if anything will come the 'larger idea', but this is whatever it is.

Some Unholy War

"Happy twenty-second." Marco raised his shot glass in my direction, tilted it back and emptied the contents down his throat. The others mimicked his actions and he signaled the bartender for another round.

I sat and stared.

Jeanne winked and reached over to grab my untouched drink.

"You sure you can handle all that, Honey?" She paused and glared at Marco before gulping it down.

"I hold my liquor better than all of the guys at this table."

"Yeah," he laughed.

…Yes she did: It was barely two rounds in when Menderesh put his head in his lap. Santorelli was swaying in his chair now, and Tobias wouldn't order anything else to eat after spending half an hour with his head in a public toilet. Something about that was ironic. Couldn't quite put my finger on it though.

"You okay, Dude," Marco asked with a sloppy smile.

"Better than you."

Jeanne laughed at that and slammed another empty glass on the table. "You're supposed to be celebrating, Jacob". Her accent was as thick as it had ever been, but her words were not slurred. "You are not having any fun."

"I'm having fun," I mumbled, distracted.

She looked me up and down, and then pushed some hair away from my face. "You have beautiful eyes. Sad eyes, yes, but beautiful." She licked her lips and I think I blushed; she laughed and ruffled my hair.

_If my man was fighting,_

_Some unholy war,_

I scowled, shook my hair back into place, stood, and headed for the bar.

"Cheese fries," I said to the waiter standing behind the counter. "And a milkshake. Chocolate. On him," I said motioning to a very drunk Marco sitting at the only occupied table in the whole restaurant.

"Yeah, who else but mister hotshot over there," the guy said with a smirk. "Oh yeah, before I forget…happy birthday." He sat a slice of cheesecake in front of me.

"Strawberry?"

"Complete with a graham cracker crust...And this." He stuck a single, yellow candle in the center and lit it with one of those click-on lighters.

"Make a wish."

_I would be behind him,_

_Straight shook up beside him,_

_With strength he didn't know,_

_It's you I'm fighting for,_

"Ugh… man, get that away from me."

"It's not _for_ you, Tobias," I said, sitting my food down.

"Didjya like the cake?"

"Yeah, Marco, thanks."

"No problemo…see I told you I spoke Spanish," he yelled at Menderesh, who remained unresponsive.

"Marco, shh! Now my head hurts," Jeanne shrieked, even though I hadn't figured her to be the shrieking type.

"I th…I thaw you could drink me undern table …"

"Trust me it's not the alcohol that's giving me a headache." She rubbed her temples.

"Ya know you love me though…"

"Mmhhm…sure. Right."

"Hey, Professor," Santorelli called out, still rocking to some unheard rhythm.

"Yeah," I answered, wiping cheese and ketchup from the corner of my mouth. "…yeah," I said, louder after a long moment of silence.

"Hey, Professor…hey…whater we…gonna do now, huh? I mean our lives are pretty much over now, right?"

"Ay! Mr. Killjoy, shuddup will you, huh, huh, huh? You're twenty-seven years old. Stop acting like a baby and stop ruining his party, alright? Youkay, Dude?"

"I'm fine, Marco."

"Good. An' you gonna be great in a minute cause I got one more surprise for you."

"It's not a stripper is it?"

"No…but I can get ya one if thas what ya want. Hell, I can even find someone to sleep with you if ya want one of dose girls, huh? How 'bout it?"

"That's quite alright. Thank you though."

"Aww come on, you can't be a virgin the rest of your life. And if Mr. Boohoo over there is right, you needa get busy soon. You don' wan' your first time to be with a guy named Big Earl."

Jeanne burst out in a fit of giggles, and I definitely blushed that time. I hadn't thought she'd be a giggler either.

. "I'm not a virgin." It almost came out like a whine.

"Whoa…when did this happen?"

"I—"

"Ay, Nathan! Didya hear that shit?" He screamed in the direction of the bar. Nathan-the-bartender and the waiter, who was resting at a table near the kitchen, looked over at us. Marco turned back to me. "We had a pact, man! We're brothers, man! How come I didn't get all the dirty details?"

"I—"

"You suck, man. You really suck."

"Well I didn't think Cassie would've appreciated me bragging to you!" I exploded, irritated with how angry he was over something dumb we'd agreed to back in sixth grade.

Now the cook came out to hear us better.

Marco gaped at me. "…You didn't…"

I nodded and shoved some fries into my mouth so that I wouldn't have to talk anymore. My face was hot.

_He can't lose with me in tow,_

_I refuse to let him go, _

_At his side and drunk on pride,_

_We wait for the blow._

And now my memories played back; clear and uncontrollably like I had a Yeerk in my head again:

How my fingers traced the lines on the rough hands that they knew so well; how they moved on their own, up her arms in search of softer skin; how they traveled, eager to discover those places that made her grip tighter and kiss harder and…

I swallowed. "But that was a long time ago… before she be—"

"—Yeah I know, before she betrayedya. I'm tired of th..thisssss…sob story. You gotta let it go. I'm sure she has."

That pissed me off. "_Forget it_." I got up.

"Hey what about your surprise?"

"I'm tired of surprises. Is quiet, normal, and predictable too much to ask for?"

"I spent a lot of money on th—"

"—I'm sure you did." I left.

Took the bus instead of the limo that we came in. Didn't care who recognized me. Didn't care that it was a ride to the end of the line and a hike to my new place. Was sort of bothered that some guy was taking a leak in the hallway two doors down from my apartment.

_We put it in writing,_

_But who you writing for,_

_Just us on kitchen floor,_

_Justice done,_

_Reciting my stomach standing still,_

_Like you're reading my will,_

I sat back on the couch (which conveniently converted to a bed) and flipped a couple of channels until I found what I was looking for: Cassie standing a podium with tears streaming down her face with that Ronnie guy standing next to her; tall and silent—there for moral support I guessed… Finally burying four friends and having them suddenly be alive not even six months later would put a strain anybody.

I noticed the ring on her finger and got this choking feeling in my throat; felt like I couldn't breathe for a few seconds, and then those _damn memories_ started up again:

"_I guess I think more about us. You and me. And all of us…You know I love you."_

"_I love you too, Jake." _

But that was a long time ago…and now she gave an update on Ax's condition (eleven weeks unconscious and still critical). She made some comments about the trial and pleaded with the militaries… Mendaresh could only dream of seeing his home world again, Santorelli was now unemployed, Jean was demoted and her U.S. citizenship was in danger, and I…well, I was sitting in a one-room apartment with no Jaguar and very little money. Oh, and since I was stripped of all military rank and clearance, I was back to being just a guy with no applicable work skills or high school diploma.

The press conference went off and one of Marco's movies came on (to be followed by another re-airing of the conference). The news had been having a field day for months. Press conferences, interviews, reruns of Marco on the Letterman Show, and replays of news reports from the first few weeks of the end of "The Invasion", as they called it, gave news stations their highest ratings ever. And now they were playing one of Marco's movies, which thankfully, had nothing to do with the war, but involved him morphing a lot and saying stupid things. _Hmm…must have written the script himself…_

Funny, how he was better off than the rest of us. The public was way more forgiving than the U.S., French, and Andalite governments were.

I think I drifted off for a few minutes. When I woke up again there was a car exploding on TV, and then there was a knock at my door. I sighed and looked at the clock: 11:47pm. _Who the hell?_

_He still stands in spite of what his scars say,_

_I'll battle til' this bitter finale,_

_Just me, my dignity, and this guitar case_

"Um, hi."

"Hi."

"I'm, uh, sorry to bother you but I think I got your mail again."

"Uh huh…" I waited.

"…Oh! Here!" She thrust the envelopes towards me.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome…Jake." My name came out softly, hesitantly, as if she hadn't known any other Jake until now. It was almost as if she'd never even said it before, and was afraid to mispronounce it.

I nodded and looked down at mail. Kept the one with mom's handwriting on it and tossed the rest on a side table near the door. Tore open the flap. It was a birthday card. Apparently my neighbor noticed this too.

"It's your birthday?" I looked up.

"Yeah."

"…Well…Happy Birthday, I guess."

"Thanks. And uh…thanks again for bringing my uh…stuff."

"No problem. I was up late and I saw you come in from my window." I put a hand on the knob but she didn't seem ready to leave. She just stood there. Staring. I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I guess you're waiting for me to go. It's just that I've never seen you in a suit. You look nice." I smiled.

"Thanks."

"…And you have a nice smile too."

"Thank you." She shifted on her feet and shoved her hands into her pockets.

"…Wouldyouliketogooutfordinner?"

"Huh?"

"Dinner. Would you like to go out for dinner? My treat, since it's your birthday and all?"

"Uh—"

"—I'm so sorry! I feel really stupid for asking you that, you probably get crazy people asking you that all the time and….I just—"

"—It's a little late for dinner."

"…Well of course I didn't mean now…If you want—"

"I'm probably going to be busy later."

"…Oh…yeah…of course…um, goodnight."

"See you."

_Yes my man is fighting some unholy war,_

_And I will stand beside you_

_Who you fighting for,_

_B- I would have died too,_

_I'd of liked to_

The card was elaborate, complete with sparkles and cartoonish letters. I guess mom thought that was enough birthday cheer. On the inside there were only two sentences of her neat handwriting in blue ink: _You can always come home. I love you._

Not 'Love ya' or 'Love, Mom' like in past birthday cards. It was a guilt-heavy 'I love you' like: '_I love you twice as much because only have one son now', or 'if I had loved you enough I would have known', or 'if you loved me at all you would come home'_.

I was pretty damn tired of love.

_If my man was fighting,_

_Some unholy war,_

_If my man was fighting._


End file.
